


A Room For the Night

by potentiality_26



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiality_26/pseuds/potentiality_26
Summary: Segundus peered balefully at Childermass from over the edge of the blankets.  “Do not tell me you intend to spend the night in that chair.”“Very well,” Childermass replied.  “I will not tell you that.”  It was obvious from his manner, however, that spending the night in that chair was precisely what he intended.After a trying day, Childermass and Segundus secure a room at an inn.  Things transpire.





	A Room For the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Ye olde bed-sharing trope, roughly inspired by [this post](http://potentiality-26.tumblr.com/post/170389796630/catastrophicallyinlovewithbooks-2-characters).

It was a miserable night indeed.

Segundus had been traveling for the better part of a day, slogging through such rain and mud that it was now impossible to go further.  The only thing not entirely awful about the whole business was his traveling companion: Childermass. 

Though hardly the most amiable person of Segundus’ acquaintance, Childermass was in this particular situation a godsend.  The work Segundus was embroiled in- traveling about the countryside and attempting to persuade reluctant parents to send their magically gifted children to his school- was already difficult, but Childermass had taken it easily in stride.  And when the day turned foul and grew only fouler, he did not once complain.  He rode ahead in search of lodgings, and found a room for them at an inn that Segundus had been assured was totally full.  So though the room was drafty and the bed small, Segundus had made up his mind to be grateful, since he would surely not have managed anywhere near as much on his own.

It was very vexing, all the same.  As Segundus hung up his coat by the door and attempted to get the muck off his boots, he wondered why it was that a magician could so much more easily call up a rainstorm than banish one.  He would have said as much to Childermass, except that having been so impressed by Childermass’ lack of complaint thus far he was loathe to make himself the more unpleasant of the two of them.

Instead, he said, “Was it very difficult to secure the room?”  He knew from his talk with the groom when he arrived that it must have been, but he supposed that- as many men did- Childermass might like to regale someone with his struggles.

Childermass settled into the chair by the window, lit his pipe, and sprawled as though he had never been anywhere so comfortable.  He shrugged.  “Not very difficult.”

“I had heard the inn was full.”

“Oh indeed.”  Childermass smiled faintly.  “But I have been here before.  I have been most places, in Norrell’s service.”

“I take it they were much cowed by you in those days,” Segundus said.  He took great comfort from the fact that they could finally talk easily about such things. 

“They are much cowed by me now.”

“Even though Norrell is gone?”

“It was never really Norrell they were afraid of.”  Childermass looked very contented with himself, and having benefited from his skill in this area Segundus did not feel right scolding him- nor did he entirely wish to.

Segundus had taken in a cat, at one time.  The scrappy little thing had a notch in its ear and an always-crooked tail.  Segundus fed it for a while and it stayed, in its way: it still came and went as it pleased, but it let Segundus pat its head once or twice, and it always returned.  Until one day it didn’t.  Segundus was never entirely sure if he was afraid that it had gone because something terrible happened, or- more selfishly- afraid that it had only grown tired of him or found a better place to stay.

In any case, Childermass reminded Segundus of that cat, and not because he habitually lounged wherever he was, or because the scar across his cheek made him particularly reminiscent of a dueling Tom.  It was because Segundus knew he had his own reasons for staying wherever he was, and would eventually have his own reasons for going too.

Segundus couldn’t say precisely when he had begun to enjoy Childermass’ presence for its own sake and not for what it meant otherwise- a visit from Vinculus and thus new magic, or word from other magicians across the north, or notes and old spells half-remembered from Norrell’s library- but he had began to regardless, and he intended to enjoy it for as long as he could, and not make himself disagreeable, even on the most disagreeable day he had had in a long while.  Accordingly, Segundus said, “You can be very forbidding,” in as mild a voice as he had at his disposal.

Childermass lifted an eyebrow and did not otherwise reply.  And so Segundus sat in the chair beside him and took out the notebook in which he put down the names of every potential student he heard of.  The ones who desperately wanted magic but had no aptitude for it even now were hard, for many had laid their hopes on it to draw them out of poverty, and had not the leisure to ever study it theoretically.  The ones who had aptitude but parents who could not or would not spare them were harder still.  Today’s had been among that number, and though he would never have thought it possible at one time Segundus was glad he had Childermass there to hold him back.

Segundus might know what it was to have magic denied him, but Childermass knew it in an entirely different way.  If he could see how the return of old magic had failed to wholly remove the class inequities from the study of it and not be enraged, Segundus knew he must find a way to do likewise.       

So he made his notes in peaceable silence for a while, only shivering now and then, and eventually said, “I believe I shall return to Starecross tomorrow.”  The only possible student left on his list was relatively close by, and he would much rather sleep in his own bed the following night.  

“I’ll join you, if I may,” Childermass replied.

Segundus almost told him that he did not have to, that he needn’t trouble himself, but then he looked at Childermass, sitting quietly with a book, and did not bother.  Certain deferential behaviors were, with Childermass, a kind of affectation despite his otherwise straightforward manners. 

Even now that he was widely understood to know as much about magic as anyone, even now that it could not be denied he _was_ a magician, Childermass did meet... resistance.  He shielded himself from it in much the same manner that he had while he was in Norrell’s service: by doing everything well, by being polite but never so polite that no one could tell he considered it an imposition. It made him seem above those who thought themselves above him in a way that fighting their assumptions might forever fail to do.  

“What do you read?” Segundus asked after a time.

“It is a history of the late war.”

“And what do you think of it?”

“I think it is not very much in keeping with the things Mr. Strange used to say on the subject.”

Segundus smiled, though it was often bittersweet to think of Mr. Strange.  “I imagine it must not be," he agreed.  "Did Mr. Strange always make it sound very terrible?”

“Always.  Even though Norrell did not like it and Lascelles hardly listened.  _He_ did not care for anything he could not see money in.”

“And there is not much money in inglorious portrayals of war, is there?”

“No indeed.  Why, here it says that in the peninsula...”  

And so, for a while, Childermass regaled him with the highly unbelievable anecdotes about the war which were to be found in his book, and as he spoke Segundus began to doze off.   

It was not that Segundus wasn’t interested, but it had been a long day, and he was weary.  He remembered thinking that Childermass himself ought to write a book, and perhaps he said so aloud, because Childermass’ huff of laughter was so clear in his mind, but perhaps he only dreamed it.  All he knew for sure was that he shut his eyes briefly and opened them again to find Childermass bending over him with a fond look on his face. 

“I believe you made that purposefully boring,” Segundus said, blinking sluggishly. 

“You are very tired,” Childermass replied, hardly a denial with his eyes twinkling as they did.  He had a candle in his hand, the only thing lighting the room by that time in the evening, and the glow it cast across his face was almost ethereal.  Almost, because Childermass was rough and ragged, like a rain lashing the rocks or a wind whipping through the bushes- a marvel, beautiful and terrible, and decidedly of this earth.  Even when Childermass was still doing Norrell’s bidding and Segundus was still resolved to despise him for it, even when Segundus still fancied him the devil incarnate, he was such an inconveniently _handsome_ devil.  It was even more inconvenient of these thoughts to creep up on him now- now that he saw Childermass for what he was only too well: rough, ragged, and a good man.   

“Come.”  Childermass helped him up, moving to undo his waistcoat and remove his cravat.

“You needn’t,” Segundus began, though in truth he doubted that he presently had the coordination for the task. 

“I would like to,” Childermass said, a rumbling warmth in his tone that made the tiny part of Segundus not now asleep on its feet take notice.  

Having stripped him down to his underthings with remarkable delicacy, Childermass maneuvered Segundus to the bed. 

Segundus allowed himself to be maneuvered, and once he was snugly tucked up in the small bed Segundus dozed happily for several moments until awareness of two things dawned on him more or less at once.

The first thing was that the room, always chilly, was beginning to be downright frigid.  Segundus’ shirt and smallclothes, in combination with the thin blankets, were hardly enough to combat the cold.  The second was that the noise of Childermass moving about the room, initially soothing to him, had become the noise of Childermass getting back into his chair and then ceased altogether.

Segundus peered balefully at Childermass from over the edge of the blankets.  “Do not tell me you intend to spend the night in that chair.”

“Very well,” Childermass replied.  “I will not tell you that.”  It was obvious from his manner, however, that spending the night in that chair was precisely what he intended.

Segundus, feeling more awake by the moment, sat up a little.  “There’s no need for that.”

“I think there is.”

“I think there isn’t.  There is plenty of room.”  There was not plenty of room, and judging by the look of amusement on his face Childermass knew it.  Segundus held firm.  “You are the only reason there even is a bed.  And it is very cold.”

“I hardly feel it.”

“I _do_.”  Segundus decided he would rather Childermass joined him for his benefit than chose not to join him at all, though he did wish he had not sounded quite so childish about it. 

But Childermass rose without another word, his fingers lifting to the tie at his throat.  Segundus ducked back underneath covers.  That part of him which had noticed Childermass earlier, given leave by his increased liveliness to run around the room, manifested as hyperawareness of Childermass now.  The noise of his clothes rustling as he discarded and folded them, of his footsteps, his breathing.  The sensation of the bed dipping as Childermass climbed in, briefly admitting a chill, and then warming Segundus considerably at every accidental point of contact.

He leaned across Segundus to blow out the candle left on the little table at his bedside and remained there for a moment, close enough that his hair drifted across Segundus’ cheek.  “Are you warmer now?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

“Yes,” Segundus replied.  “But... I could certainly be warmer.”

“Ah.”  Childermass was still for a moment, and another, and then he moved, draping an arm across Segundus’ chest and pulling them flush together.  That was very warm indeed.  In fact, the very specific warmth which had been buzzing around in Segundus’ brain since Childermass’ stained fingers had first come up to undo his cravat descended to his stomach and then descended further still.  With Childermass fitted to his back as he was, Segundus felt safe in assuming Childermass would not guess that he had provoked a physical reaction.  But-

But as Childermass settled against him, his breath hot and just a little unsteady across the back of Segundus’ neck, it occurred to Segundus that he might like to have done so.

Segundus turned his head and lay still, waiting for his eyes to adjust enough to the darkness that he might see Childermass properly.  And he saw the same teasing in Childermass’ face that he had heard in his voice, but there was an edge to it- sharp, as if he had expected Segundus to shove him off and was not sure how to behave now that he had not.  And though vulnerability was not something Segundus typically associated with Childermass, he did look vulnerable in that moment.  He looked like he had a hope inside him it _hurt_ to entertain.   

“Are you,” Segundus began, softly.  “Would you-”

He was close enough, by then, to lay his whole face against Childermass’, and from there it was such a small matter, for so great a thing, to fit his lips to Childermass’ lips.  He felt a breath, and then Childermass’ mouth moved against his, first returning and then deepening the kiss.  His hand came up- first only to caress his jaw, then to cup it, and then finally to push him back.  “You are tired,” Childermass said.

“Not very,” Segundus replied, turning fully in his arms.  “Not anymore.”

“Ah,” Childermass said again, just a breath across Segundus’ lips as Segundus rocked closer to him.  His fingertips slid upward, smoothing over Segundus’ cheek.

“And you?” Segundus asked, in case Childermass had really asked for his own benefit- though it was difficult, from the gentleness of his touch and intensity of his gaze, to believe that he had.  “Are _you_ tired?”

“Not very,” Childermass said in turn.  “Not anymore.”

Segundus smiled and kissed him again, thinking that if he had known what the night would bring he would have handled the day with more grace.  He told Childermass as much, between even more kisses. 

Childermass chuckled faintly, nuzzling his nose.  “And here I thought you handled yourself beautifully.”

“Do not tease me,” Segundus said, though he was laughing as he said it, and he liked the light in Childermass’ eyes, liked how the thin blankets and the cold room, and the inn and the storm beyond, all seemed to fade away.  How the world narrowed to just the two of them and an extraordinary heat unlike any he had ever known.

Childermass exerted sudden strength then, tightening his grip on Segundus and pressing him back into the pillow.  Childermass settled half on top of him and dragged his hand down from Segundus’ face, down and down, just firmly enough for Segundus to feel every bit of its progress quite intensely. 

Segundus shuddered as Childermass stroked from his throat to his chest and then his stomach, the weight and heat of his hand making it difficult to breathe, or think, let alone speak, and Segundus arched helplessly into his touch.

Childermass slowly made his way lower still, finally pressing his palm against Segundus’ hardening cock through his smallclothes.  “No,” he said.  “I’ll not tease you.” 

“It feels-” Segundus began at last, his breath still hitching in his chest, his hips still stuttering up toward Childermass’ hand- “as though you are.”

“Does it?” Childermass asked, brow lifting.  His fingers were at work suddenly, tracing the precise shape of Segundus’ cock with dizzying exactitude, from base to head, and putting pressure on the slit, which was already leaking and rendering the thin fabric across it a little damp.  “How might I stop?”

Segundus ought to have known that Childermass would want him to ask for this, want him to say the words.  His face flushed- partly from embarrassment, but not all.  Not even mostly.  “You might help me get those off.  You are so… clever at that sort of thing.”

“Am I indeed?”  Childermass sounded pleased, not critical- nor was it much of a question when Segundus knew, from how Childermass had handled him thus far, that he was keenly aware of his skill.  “And then?”  Childermass pressed down with his thumb. 

Segundus squirmed a little, but answered him dutifully: “And then you might touch me.”

“Touch you?”

“Touch my cock.”

Childermass kissed Segundus’ flushed cheek then, like he was soothing a burn, and what little embarrassment he had felt quickly fled.  He understood Childermass, or at least hoped he did.  Childermass had his pride, and it struck Segundus as very likely that if he had been with any men who talked and dressed like Segundus before, those men would have been very eager to have such things while wishing still to seem above it all.  To remain genteel- respectable was the word that consistently sprang to Segundus’ mind, and Norrell had made him hate it intensely- while casting Childermass in the more vulgar role, a kind of lowering in the last place where it belonged.  But Segundus would not do that, would not disappoint him by trying to hold himself aloof in that way- nor did he intend to let Childermass hold himself aloof in turn.  He _liked_ this, Segundus could hear in his voice and feel in his touch how much he did, and Segundus would unravel him with it yet. 

It was while Segundus thought this that Childermass finished the work Segundus had initially prescribed- working him free of his smallclothes and helping him to kick them off, applying gentle touches around his hips and thighs all the while that made any awkwardness in the action seem as nothing at all- and then stroked him bare- briefly driving every thought from Segundus’ head but these: that Childermass’ hands were calloused, and truly remarkably warm despite the chill on the air, and every bit as clever he had guessed they were.

“Like this?” Childermass asked.

When he could breathe, Segundus said, “Yes.”  He swallowed a curse as Childermass stroked the whole length of him, kissed it into his neck.

“And now what?” Childermass asked after a while- though Segundus could not answer straightaway, because Childermass chose that moment to turn his head and catch Segundus’ lips in a kiss that Segundus intended to make the most of.  His fingers tangled into Childermass’ hair while his other hand slid low, pushing underneath his shirt and rucking it up to touch his back and shoulders.  Childermass pressed flush against him then, an answering hardness fitted to his thigh. 

Segundus broke the kiss only briefly, and only to finish pulling Childermass’ shirt over his head in order to touch more of him.  He was tempted to say that this could be all he needed.  It was almost certainly the truth.  Childermass handled him expertly, and the feel of him so tight and heavy and close was the best thing that Segundus had felt in a long time. 

But Segundus had his pride too, and he wanted to make the darkness in Childermass’ eyes grow.  So he said, “You might suck me.”  And, “I might do the same to you.”

At the first set of words, Segundus saw the look of hunger that he had been hoping for.  At the second, it increased tenfold.  Childermass’ voice was a low rumble as he asked, “In that order?  Or at once?”

Segundus licked his lips.  “At once,” he replied.  His understanding of the mechanics involved was largely theoretical- but, as in most things, Segundus read.  Such literature was not easy to find- but neither was it difficult in comparison to tracking down magical books and getting hold of them before Gilbert Norrell. 

Segundus was reluctant to say as much, however.  Having impressed Childermass, he did not now wish to go backwards. 

And he _had_ impressed Childermass.  Childermass drew him into the kind of kiss that made it difficult to hold onto his pride for long.  His tongue pressed in between Segundus’ lips, and his hand, previously still, squeezed Segundus’ cock just so- heavy enough to make him see stars yet light enough to make him mewl for more against Childermass’ mouth.

Still, when Childermass broke the kiss he managed to pant out, “Did I surprise you?”

And Childermass smiled- not the heated, teasing smiling from before, though traces of it certainly remained, but something softer and sweeter too.  “You surprise me every day.”

“In a good way, I hope.”  Segundus’ mouth was dry.

“In the best way.”  Segundus’ mouth did not remain dry once Childermass had licked into it again.  Then Childermass surprised him by breaking away only to deliver yet another kiss, this time to his forehead.  There was something heartstoppingly- or perhaps heartstartingly- tender about the way he did it, and then he was moving, curling around Segundus’ side so that his head was even with Segundus’ waist, and his hips were about in line with Segundus’ face. 

It took some negotiating on both their parts, with the bed as small and creaky and worn out as it was, and Segundus grumbled about missing his own bed, and Childermass laughed, a laugh he swallowed when Segundus added, “You’ll like it, I hope.”

“Your bed?”

“Yes.”  It was, Segundus knew, not altogether established between them whether this was an act of opportunity only, whether it was to be repeated ever again.  Segundus knew Childermass would make his own wishes clear in time, knew there was only a little he could do now in words or in performance which would steer him in one direction or the other.  But that did not keep his heart from stuttering unpleasantly in his chest at the thought of never being this close to him again.  That did not keep him from wishing to make his own hopes known, even in so small a way. 

And the look Childermass shot him made it worthwhile.  It was... not grateful, exactly, but it was near to it. 

“Have I surprised you again?” Segundus asked.

Childermass didn’t answer- or perhaps he did in another way.  He pressed a kiss to Segundus’ stomach through his shirt, and then nuzzled down to his cock. 

His fingertips pressed deep into Segundus’ thigh.  His mouth slid, barely touching, from the base of Segundus' cock to the tip, where he just kissed at first- that 'just' more than enough to make Segundus shudder with need.  He tried not to squirm too much.  He knew no amount of reading would disguise the fact that his experience, while it existed, was not especially robust. 

Childermass huffed out a laugh that flashed across Segundus’ flesh like lightning, a burning contrast to the cool air around them that only sharpened further when he kissed Segundus' cockhead again, open-mouthed, his tongue working across the slit. 

It was an act of self-preservation almost, to reach out, to move and distract himself from what Childermass was doing to him- a tease, to be sure, and one that made him doubt he would last anywhere near as long as he would like to.  He laid a hand on Childermass’ side, just below his ribcage, and trembled at the heat of him.  The smoothness of his skin and the roughness of his hair and all the hills and valleys formed by scars and imperfections that Segundus could spend a lifetime mapping out.  It wasn’t much, but perhaps the reverence of his touch made it something more, because Childermass’ breath stuttered and he made a noise low in his throat.

Segundus slid his hand down, touching Childermass’ flank through his smallclothes and working to get him free of them with fingers that fumbled and knuckles that knocked against Childermass' skin as he went. 

“You are,” Childermass began, but he did not finish telling Segundus what he was- at least, not in words.  He told him with his mouth, with the soft, wet heat between his lips that engulfed Segundus as Childermass took him inside.  Segundus’ hips stuttered briefly, and he buried his face in the hollow of Childermass’ thigh for a moment, sucking in a sharp breath that filled his nose and coated his palate in Childermass’ scent.  It made his mouth water for more.    

He had wondered, when he first discovered this act in his books, if it was altogether practical.  Surely the task of performing it distracted from the joy of receiving and vice versa- but as he applied himself he discovered that this was not case, or if it was any distractions were overwelmed by pleasures distinct to the act.

Childermass tasted as he smelled, heavy and strong, and he felt heavier still when Segundus stretched his lips wide to accommodate him.  The back of his throat ached immediately- a strangely welcoming feeling that made him ambitious, made him work Childermass with his tongue and take him deeper.  It made him overambitious, perhaps, because he nearly choked- but then Childermass did something with his own tongue that sent shudders of pleasure through Segundus, relaxing him instantly.  And whatever he did then must have felt good in turn, because Childermass groaned, the noise thrumming across Segundus’ skin and making him clutch at Childermass’ hip tight enough to bruise. 

That sensation built as Childermass worked him with incredible skill, and Segundus released him as it crested to something more intense than he could bear, and he spilled down Childermass’ throat without so much as a warning. 

When he recovered himself enough to think, Segundus pressed kisses all around Childermass’ cock in apology, and Childermass did not appear to mind, because he laid kisses of his own across thighs and spent cock, murmuring affectionate nonsense that greatly spurred Segundus on. 

He felt Childermass’ grip on him tighten, heard, “Close now,” and when he only redoubled his efforts he quickly tasted Childermass across his tongue.  He coughed a little, swallowed, and thought that he would actually rather like to taste more of it. 

Segundus pressed one more kiss to Childermass’ hip and reoriented himself, straightening out his shirt and deciding that he could worry about the rest of his clothes in the morning.

The sweat across his back, nothing a moment ago, chilled him now- but, looking at Childermass, he did not care a very great deal.  Childermass had moved to stretch himself quite contentedly out across the bed, the flat plane of his stomach a temptation Segundus did not find himself able to resist.  He laid his head there, taking the covers with him.  “You really are like that cat,” he said.

His voice must have been muffled by the blankets, as Childermass’ was when he chuckled and asked, “What was that?”

“Nothing that cannot wait,” Segundus replied, for he was warm again and ready to sleep.

Childermass threaded his fingers through Segundus’ hair and made a noise of agreement, so Segundus slept.

 *   *   *

But in the morning, Segundus didn’t remember making the remark.  He had too much else to think about: the logistics of dressing, breaking his fast, and preparing to get back on the road- all while wrapping his fingers around Childermass’ fingers, or pressing his lips to Childermass’ lips, whenever either of them had a free moment.

Indeed, he didn’t remember it again for fully three months.  It was one morning while all the students were still in bed, and Segundus- reading and taking tea in his rooms- looked over at Childermass where he was seated by the window with a newspaper and realized that he lived there too. 

There had been no discussion between them on subject, not since that night in the inn, but Childermass had returned to Starecross with him and never really left.  He still paid visits to various magical societies, still tracked Vinculus down and carted him this way and that, but most of this work he now did by post, and on trips that Segundus himself was making as well.  And even when Childermass was gone he was still present: his things were to be found littered about Segundus’ rooms, and his adages were to be found on the lips of the students.  It worked quite neatly.  Being a magician running a school of magic, Segundus had only managed to hire a few servants, all of them practical types disinclined to involve themselves in his personal affairs.  Thus, they either did not know Childermass now slept in his bed most nights, or they did not care.

Segundus was glad it was all so neat and comfortable, of course he was, but he could not help thinking again of that stray cat.  He could not help thinking that if Childermass could ensconce himself so silently and with such ease, he might be able to unensconce himself again in the same way.  Segundus did not want that. 

He set his teacup down with a careful clink, put his book aside, and cleared his throat.  “I couldn’t help noticing that you’ve... become something of a fixture,” he said.

Childermass blinked and set his paper down in turn.  He began, “I had hoped we both-”

“We do,” Segundus said quickly.  “That is, I do want you here, for as long as you wish to be and preferably for good.  I only mention it because _you_ haven’t.”  As he spoke, Segundus rose and crossed to Childermass, letting his hand come to rest on the table where Childermass sat.  “And I should like it if we began to make such decisions together, from now on.”

Childermass’ hand moved, his fingertips dragging against Segundus’ own.  “I would like that too.  Very much.”

Segundus smiled and twined their fingers together.  “So that’s settled?”

“Not quite, perhaps.”

“Oh?” Segundus asked, startled. 

“There is something which it occurs to me must be discussed jointly, if that is how you wish to proceed from here.”

“Oh?” Segundus repeated. 

“I have noticed a cat often by the kitchen of late.  Perhaps you have noticed it as well?”

“I had not.  Is he small and orange?  With a notched ear and a crooked tail?”

“Just so.  Are you acquainted?”

Segundus smiled, sitting down at the table without releasing Childermass’ hand.  “Yes.  You’ve been feeding him?”

“I assumed it was what you would want.”

“You assumed rightly."  Segundus lifted their joined hands and kissed Childermass’ knuckles.  Childermass released a wonderfully ragged breath.  Segundus held on to him, enjoying the notion that all was currently right with the world.

He enjoyed it until his tea had gone cold, and even then he did not mind at all.  He was too happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [tumblr](http://potentiality-26.tumblr.com).


End file.
